


Perverse

by orphan_account



Category: Fingersmith - Sarah Waters
Genre: F/F, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sue falls in love with Maud twice: once with the innocent heiress, and once with the author of filth with a voice like steel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perverse

Sue thought she was in love with Maud before the madhouse.  And she was, in a certain way.  She was charmed by the softness, the propriety and innocence with which Maud carried herself.  To her then, Maud was a crown jewel, a virgin pearl untouched by the wickedness of the world beyond Briar.

And then came the madhouse, and Sue’s perceptions of Maud were twisted ugly and black with a hatred that burned in her like she’d never felt before.  The pearl had melted to coal and sulfur, and the memories of Briar and all it entailed filled her with nothing but hatred.

But one more paradigm shift takes Sue by storm.  After her hatred fizzles into something like solidarity, that sisterhood forged from falling into the same trap, Sue ventures to Briar where Maud confronts her with books full of dust and filth.  Talk of buttocks, thighs, breasts, stomachs, nothing but the dirtiest of pornography.

It flows freely from Maud’s pen, Sue discovers later, without a hint of shame.  She writes it with a straight face and a professional sort of detachment.  It is all about soft touches, flirtatious glances.  Sometimes, husbands would get involved.  Sue didn’t like those ones very much.

She blushes horribly when they are read aloud to her, not because of the words.  They are tame after Maud has had her in ways that no man would imagine women could have each other.  It isn’t all soft touches on porcelain between them, no sir.  More than once has Sue greeted the dawn with a redness on her bottom and thighs that makes sitting problematic.  Maud likes to mark her up, after all, and Sue gives as well as she gets.

But this is a digression.  The point is, it’s not the words that inflame Sue.  It’s the way in which Maud says them.

Her voice, when she reads, is strong and clear, ringing out with a sense of assuredness that has the most queer effect on Sue.  It is deep without being masculine, severe without being ugly, and dominating without being frightening.  All Maud has to do is put on that voice, and Sue’s toes will curl.

That is why, perhaps, they find themselves falling into old habits.  They assume the roles of maid and mistress, albeit with a twist.  There are few secrets between them now, and they count themselves as equals in matters of the heart.  Yet this is a game they never tire of.

They mostly do it in the writing room for the simple irony of defiling it in a way that that vile old man would have blanched at.  His poisons pale in the shadow of their passions.  It’s best on days like today when Briar is sleepy in its laziness and the sun is shining warm through the wide open windows.

Sue walks in to see Maud sitting behind the desk, pen scratching on paper, when Maud suddenly puts a bare hand up.

“Stop,” she commands, and Sue freezes.

“Maud, I–” Sue starts, but Maud cuts her off.

“You would speak so forwardly to your mistress?”

Oh, so _that’s_ how she wants it today.  Sue can play that game, alright.

“Miss,” she corrects, curtseying slightly, “It’s a lovely day outside, and I was wondering if you’d like to take a stroll with me?”

Sue swallows down the nervous excitement making her voice tremble.  Maud isn’t in the mood for a stroll, that much is obvious.  She’s been writing furiously all morning and into the early afternoon, hair carelessly tied back and yet spilling out at the sides of her face.  Sue loves her like this, when she doesn’t bother to dress herself up like a proper lady.  Sue loves her all the time.

Maud bites the end of her pen like she’s considering her options, though it is clear her mind is already made up.  “I don’t think I much desire to take a walk around the grounds.  I’m rather preoccupied with my writing.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll leave you to it, miss,” Sue says, curtseying quickly before retreating toward the door.  A smile fights its way across her face as she approaches the threshold, because she knows that this isn’t the end of things.

“Sue,” Maud calls out, just before Sue grips the handle.  “There is something you may assist me with.”

“What would that be, miss?” Sue asks, feigning coy innocence.  She knows damn well what Maud wants.

Maud pushes her chair out slightly, just enough that there is space between her and the desk.  Sue approaches as Maud begins to say, “I’ve grown fatigued after a morning of writing.  I'm in need of some motivation if I'm going to continue?”

“Anything you’d ask of me, miss,” Sue says, only trembling slightly, “I’d do it.”

“Right,” Maud says, eyes dragging down Sue’s body.  “Assume you place at my feet.”

Sue drops without so much as a _yes, miss_.  Maud is wearing one of her older dresses today, a plain one without much shape to it.  Sue runs her fingers down the fine material until she hits the hem.  Then, with very little hesitation or fitness, she reaches under to remove Maud’s boots.  There are no stockings covering her feet, only bare skin meets Sue’s deft fingers.  It doesn’t take Sue long to notice that Maud isn’t wearing any drawers beneath her dress at all.  It's as if she had planned this.

To think, once, Sue saw her as the model of a perfect lady.

“Do you find it indecent?” Maud asks with a strange sort of challenge in her voice.

“It’s hot today, ain’t it?” Sue says, looking up at Maud.  “A girl can hardly blame you, miss.”

“I take it you are wearing yours?”

“I am.”

Maud hums in consideration.  “There will be plenty of time to rectify that later.  For now, continue.”

“Yes miss,” Sue says, grinning up at Maud before she runs her fingers along the curve of Maud’s calves, slowly dragging the dress up with the motion.  She loves the feel of them, the softness of her flesh adorned with fine hairs.  Goosebumps rise as Sue’s fingers reach higher, until the weight of the dress is resting in Maud’s lap.

Sue takes one of Maud’s feet in her hands and brings it close to her face, reverently kissing the top of it.  Maud breaks character to giggle for a moment, and Sue grins up at her.  Then her lips move higher, skirting over her ankle and up her legs, pecking her knees and brushing the insides of her thighs.

Underneath the bunched up folds of the dress, Sue can smell the heat of Maud.  She isn’t surprised when she hikes the dress higher still and finds the hair there glistening slightly in the sunlight.

“What kinds of words were you writing up there?” Sue ask, voice low and tinged with amusement.

“Only the finest,” Maud says as she shamelessly reaches between her legs and dips a finger into that thatch of hair, letting it disappear up to the knuckle before she pulls it out again and presents it to Sue.  It shines with wetness, and Sue opens her mouth to receive it.

The musk of Maud is something that Sue isn’t sure she will ever tire of.  It’s a scent so thick and inebriating that she finds herself growing drunk off it.  When Maud pulls back, she lets her finger catch on Sue’s lower lip.  She smiles down at the sight with a softness that contradicts her tone.

“Are you going to behave for me, Sue?” she asks.  “Will you give me a satisfactory performance?”

Sue swallows around the anticipation clogging her throat.  “Yes, miss.”

“Good girl,” Maud says, slouching in her chair to give Sue better access.  “You may proceed.”

Sue doesn’t need to be told twice.  She leans forward and uses her thumbs to spread apart those folds like the petals of a flower.  It makes her blood thrum hot to see Maud so wet for her, always for her.

Her tongue startles a shuddering moan out of Maud.  There is a sense of smugness, knowing that she has this much power over someone who pretends to command her.  Sue might like to drop down to her knees, but she’s not going to be tamed any time soon.

As Sue grows bolder in her actions, Maud grows more uninhibited in her reactions.  Sue’s tongue drags through the wetness as her noses presses into the hair hiding Maud away from her.  The scent is so strong that she feels dizzy with her desire for it.

After while, Maud reaches down and unties Sue’s hair, letting it spill across her shoulders as fingers bury themselves in it.  Sue thinks about where else those fingers might bury later, and redoubles her efforts.

Then Maud gasps, and they are equals once more.

The sound resonates all throughout Sue’s body, and she lets her hands wander between her own legs as she curses her decision to wear smallclothes.  Maud catches her, though, and tugs her hair sharply.

“You may not touch yourself,” Maud says, voice high and shaking even as she gives the order.  “Not until I allow it.”

Sue whimpers and wraps her hands around Maud’s ankles to keep them occupied.  She knows her fingernails, blunt and worn, are likely causing Maud discomfort.  But Maud does not recoil in pain, she just circles her hips and grinds against Sue’s mouth.

“Like that, Sue,” she breathes, jerking her hips in encouragement as Sue drinks her in.  That tongue moves higher, then, and Maud nearly yelps when Sue latches on to her most sensitive spot.  She licks and sucks as she brings one hand up and easily pushes a finger into Maud’s wetness, followed by another until they are pumping steadily.

Maud is close to falling apart up there.  The feeling of her hands tugging in Sue’s hair is almost uncomfortable, but it’s an ache she welcomes as she brings Maud to the peak of her pleasure.

Sue doesn’t relent as Maud cries out and twitches with the waves of her orgasm.  Heat floods Sue’s body as she feels Maud tighten around her fingers, but she will not touch herself until she is allowed.

Eventually, Maud’s breathing returns to a gentle rhythm that moves lazily like the summer breeze.  Sue pulls away and runs the back of her hand across her mouth as she gazes up at Maud.

“My jewel,” Maud sighs, running her fingers through Sue’s wild hair.  “All mine.”

Even with her dress hiked up into her lap and her cheeks glowing red, Maud still looks venerable and in control.

“Miss…” Sue starts, putting on her best serving girl’s voice,  “May I… Do I have your permission to…”

“Divest yourself of your boots and undergarments,” Maud commands, always dominant.  It’s hard to believe that this was the blushing girl begging Sue to teach her what a woman must do for their husband.  But then, Sue supposes it isn’t the same woman.  Not really.

Sue is on her feet quickly, following Maud’s order as Maud stretches and lets her dress fall back into order.  When Sue is bare beneath her skirts, gentle breeze tickling her legs, Maud piles everything on the writing desk on one side and pats the surface.

For a moment, Sue doesn’t understand.  But then, Maud says, “Sue, on the table.”

She follows that command just as eagerly as the others.

In moments, she is sitting with her legs spread wide as Maud disappears under her skirts.  They have clearly gone on too long for much more teasing, and Sue is more than alright with that.

The first touch of Maud’s tongue has Sue wishing she could see her, but there is a perverse sort of thrill in knowing she is blanketed by the thick folds of Sue’s dress.  How’s that for propriety?  Maud doesn’t seem to care either way, she gets her fingers involved quickly.  They lack the talented finesse of a fingersmith, but make up for it with eagerness and determination that has Sue falling apart before long.

After Maud pulls back, hair disheveled and mouth wet, Sue touches her shaking feet back to the floor.  Any chill the morning wind carried has settled into an overbearing humidity that is intensified in the wake of their satiated desires.

“So, Sue,” Maud says, pushing Sue against the desk for a kiss, “How about that walk?”

The shift in her is almost palpable when Sue touches her skin.  This is no longer dominating Maud, the harsh mistress who would see Sue always on her knees.  This is Maud, just Maud, sweet Maud who kisses like the summer breeze.

“I think we got plenty of activity just then, Maud,” Sue says, blushing slightly.

“I fancy a taste of fresh air after being locked in all morning,” Maud says, wandering to the window.  Sue follows her and presses close, breathing in the scent of their earlier activities.

“Let me get my drawers back on,” Sue says, but Maud stops her.

“Don’t,” she says, halfway between a plea and a command.  “You won’t be needing them.”

Shock spreads across Sue’s face as she gapes.  “Maud!  We can’t!”

“What’s stopping us?” Maud grins, grabbing Sue’s hands and dragging her out of the room.  Sue lets her, giggling all the while at Maud’s boldness.  They trod barefoot like bohemians across the worn rugs and hardwood floors that have become their home.  Once they’re outside, breathing in the warm summer air of Briar, a breeze brushes against their scandalously bare ankles beneath their skirts.

London and all its memories are far away from this place, this awful oppressive place that they have reclaimed as their own.  Nobody can take away what is theirs now.


End file.
